The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  “Does everyone in Ta Set Maat receive these delicacies?” the First God’s Servant asked Amennakht.

  “Certainly not, Excellency,” he answered indignantly. “Unless Pharaoh – life, prosperity, health – provides them for a festival, through his generosity.”

  “Do you not manage your own household?” Usermarenakht challenged me, glaring. “I warn you – do not try to mislead us to save your husband!”

  Was I now on trial? “Excellency, I manage what I’m given,” I said defiantly. “I don’t ask where it comes from.” I tilted my head towards Mesedptah without looking at him. “He wouldn’t tell me if I did.”

  “No husband has to answer to his wife,” a judge interjected near the end of the row.

  “There’s an adage,” another said. “Let your wife see your wealth but do not trust her with it. Do not open your heart to your wife, for what you say to her in private will be repeated in the street.”

  Muttered assents from men standing around me.

  “What about the serving girl?” Pentawere probed.

  “It’s true, Majesty. Sitmut comes daily.”

  “Is your house so large you require so much of her help?”

  “It’s the same size as every other in Ta Set Maat, Majesty. But I’m rarely there. I spend every morning tending the garden on my roof. It’s the finest in the village.” I looked at Amennakht. “At least, it was until these men destroyed it today out of spite.” I didn’t hide my bitterness.

  Amennakht smiled superciliously.

  “From midday to sunset I tend the rooftop gardens of various neighbors, different ones each day. Unless someone calls upon me as healer. I have more skill than anyone at that in Ta Set Maat. My husband gave me permission to move freely about the village for these reasons. That’s why he arranged for Sitmut to come to my house, beginning three years ago.”

  Pentawere leaned forward in his chair. “Do you know why he chose her specifically?”

  I did now, given the number of women Mesedptah had been accused of taking to his bed, and her beauty. He’d allowed me to care for my neighbors’ gardens simply to get me out of the way so he could be with Sitmut whenever he wanted, in my house, under my nose. Including every evening. Sitmut prepared a meal for Mesedptah on the days he was working in the Great Place and carried it to the rest house on the heights where he slept along with the rest of the village’s men. I recalled vague rumors of drinking parties there. Rumor no more. I glanced at Sitmut, beautiful despite her tear–stained face. Pentawere had already figured out for himself why Mesedptah had chosen her. I wasn’t going to bring more shame on myself by stating the obvious. I shook my head no.

  “What can you tell us about the ox in your husband’s stable?” the First God’s Servant pressed.

  “Excellency, I didn’t know my husband had a stable.” What else had he kept from me? “He rarely lets me leave Ta Set Maat, and never alone. Not even when I go to the riverside market by the quays, to barter with sailors on passing boats the fruits and vegetables I grow on my roof.”

  More murmurs in the courtyard. A few men nodded their heads approvingly. They too kept their wives on short leashes.

  “You must have known your husband was a thief.” Usermarenakht’s voice was hard now, rising in volume. “Surely he showed you his golden treasures. Confess, Woman! He gave you Pharaoh’s gold, didn’t he!”

  “Not to me. To her!” I exclaimed angrily, pointing at Sitmut.

  Amennakht held up the golden pendant Reshpetref had ripped from around Sitmut’s neck and showed it to the judges. It glittered in the sunlight. “Sitmut told us Mesedptah gave this to her. It’s from Ramesses the Great’s tomb.”

  Gasps from the crowd.

  “I didn’t give it to her,” Mesedptah insisted.

  “You did!” Sitmut cried.

  “Who, then?” Pentawere asked.

  “Her lover. She’s trying to protect him by blaming me.” Mesedptah crossed his arms.

  “I’m not!” Sitmut protested.

  “I suppose her lover hid the gold in your tomb so you’d take the blame if it was ever found?” Pentawere asked.

  Mesedptah shrugged. “As you say, Majesty. It seems the likeliest reason.”

  I heard snickers.

  “Who is this mysterious lover, do you think?” Pentawere probed.

  “Majesty, by Penanuke’s own admission, Sitmut is in my house constantly. She knew the location of my tomb.” He pointed at Penanuke. “I charge that he stole those items and forced his lover Sitmut to hide them in my tomb, to make it appear I’m a thief and divert attention from himself!”

  Cries rang through the courtyard at the audacity of the charge. Some saw through it. But many were nodding in support of Mesedptah. I couldn’t believe their gullibility.

  “Why would I try to blame you?” Penanuke challenged hotly.

  “Because you discovered I bed your wife – regularly,” Mesedptah said coolly.

  More snickers and some laughter from the crowd.

  Mesedptah smiled at Penanuke, broadly. “And she told you she prefers me. You wanted revenge.”

  “No!” Penanuke cried, balling his hands into fists.

  “You ordered Sitmut to seduce me as part of your plan,” Mesedptah added.

  I was stunned. It was one thing that so many men had accused Mesedptah of adultery. But he’d just freely admitted it in front of these high officials and my neighbors. With pride! How many of his sexual partners had I learned about today? I was so hurt I couldn’t remember all their names. I’d never be able to hold my head up in Ta Set Maat again. My life was ruined. I looked at Grandfather. I saw pity in his eyes. I knew that’s how everyone in the village would look at me from this day forward. When they weren’t laughing at me. Impulsively, angrily, I launched myself at Mesedptah, furiously beat his chest with my fists, cursed him incoherently in impotent rage.

  He cowered, caught off guard by my onslaught, raised his hands to protect himself. After a moment strong hands yanked me away from him. Grandfather wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back into the fringe of the crowd. I lay my head against his chest and my own heaved as I gasped for breath. I forced myself not to cry. I wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction.

  Mesedptah was nonplussed. He pressed his advantage. “Excellencies, I accuse Penanuke of tomb robbery, and perjury in an attempt to convict me and my friends of a crime we didn’t commit! And his accomplice, Sitmut! Everyone accused with me should be released. Penanuke should be sentenced to break rocks in the desert quarry! These grave good stacked before you should be returned to my tomb! Amennakht and his henchmen should be ordered to restore it to the condition it was in before they destroyed its decoration today!” He looked at Penanuke, smug and satisfied.

  The First God’s Servant glanced at the other judges, then addressed the crowd. “Tomb robbing is a heinous crime. Aside from the sacrilege involved, it strikes at the heart of Pharaoh’s finances. The grave goods from just one tomb would allow everyone in Ta Set Maat to live well for the rest of their lives without lifting a finger to work. They’d run away from Waset and no one would remain to construct tombs. This cannot be allowed to happen.” He shook his head. “We’ve just heard charges and countercharges. We’ll not discover the truth by more talking.” He motioned to the Medjay guards standing next to the prisoners. “It’s time for a confession. Start with him.” He pointed at Mesedptah.

  Mesedptah’s face drained of color.

  In an instant he was stretched out face down in the courtyard dirt a few paces in front of the judges, one Medjay holding his wrists, another pinning his ankles. He squirmed futilely. A third came forward with a long slender rod, stepped to one side, struck Mesedptah violently across his bare shoulder blades. Mesedptah winced. An angry red welt appeared. A second blow fell, then a third. The first blow began to turn purple. I turned away, sickened. The Medjay with the rod paused.

  “Do you have anything to confess?” the priest asked.

 
“No,” Mesedptah insisted, lifting his head as best he could.

  The priest nodded to the Medjay. Ten more strokes fell between shoulder and waist. Blood began seeping from Mesedptah’s back where several welts crisscrossed. The top half of the rod showed traces of red. He was sweating now and grunting involuntarily with each blow. The remaining accused watched, fear on their faces and terror in their eyes. Sitmut was sobbing, covering her face with her hands.

  “Have you remembered the truth yet?” the priest asked during another pause. “Or should we question the girl?”

  “I’ve spoken it, My Lord,” Mesedptah said through gritted teeth.

  Usermarenakht sighed loudly and nodded. The Medjay holding Mesedptah’s ankles bent his legs so that the soles of his feet were facing the sky. The Medjay with the rod struck them fifteen times hard in quick succession. Blood appeared.

  Mesedptah cried out on the last stroke. “Enough!”

  “The truth?” Usermarenakht queried, turning his head and smiling knowingly at Pentawere, who smiled back.

  “Yes,” Mesedptah said weakly.

  The Medjay released their grips and pulled Mesedptah to his feet. He immediately cried out and dropped heavily to his knees. There was blood on the ground where he’d momentarily stood. He did not look up at the officials but kept his eyes on the dirt before him.

  “Well?”

  “We took our copper tools…”

  “Who is ‘we’?” Pentawere asked sharply. “These men accused with you?”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “Any others?”

  “No, Majesty.”

  “Continue.”

  “We took our tools and cut a way into the tomb of Pharaoh, the great god. We discovered his subterranean chamber and climbed down, flaming torches in our hands. We opened his outer sarcophagus and the inner coffins inside it. We found the venerable mummy of Pharaoh, equipped with a crescent–shaped sword.”

  Irate cries rang in the courtyard.

  “Numerous amulets and golden items decorated his neck. He was wearing a gold helmet that entirely covered his face and head. The venerable mummy of Pharaoh was completely covered with gold. His coffins were decorated with gold inside and out and inlaid with every kind of precious stone. We ripped the gold off. We took the stones. We took golden objects. We took items we could barter. Then we climbed from the tomb and returned to the village. We melted the gold in my tomb and bartered most of it and most of the larger items in Waset soon after. Some gold we hid for later.”

  “In your tomb?”

  “Yes, Majesty. My tomb held everyone’s share.”

  The remaining accused blanched. Mesedptah had just sealed their fates.

  Pentawere rose to his feet, angry, eyes blazing. “I’ve heard enough! My father, Ramesses, third of his name, Usermaatre–Meryamen – life, prosperity, health – bears great love for his predecessor, Osiris–pharaoh Usermaatre–Setepenre, the great god justified. He has modeled his reign upon that of the pharaoh known throughout the world as Ramesses the Great. Like his predecessor, Father has conquered the valley’s enemies. He’s built temples to the glory of the gods and endowed them for eternity. He’s expanded trade into Retenu and Setjet and into the far reaches south of the cataract. That his ancestor’s tomb should be violated by you – that his very body should be violated by you – is intolerable! The gods cry out for vengeance!” Pentawere drew himself up to his full height and raised his staff of authority high in the air. He locked his eyes on Mesedptah. “It is the judgment of this Great Kenbet that the six of you be immediately taken to the courtyard before the entrance of this temple and impaled alive there upon stakes, where you shall remain until you are dead.”

  “No!”

  “What about the woman?” Amennakht asked.

  “Her too. She tried to cover up the crime.”

  Sitmut screamed.

  All at once the enormity and finality of the sentence hit me, hard. My knees buckled and I fainted. By the time Grandfather revived me the courtyard was empty.

  Not long after that I was a widow.

  Grandfather waited an hour before he escorted me from the temple. A huge crowd was still gathered around the seven posts where my husband and his fellow robbers and Sitmut had been impaled. The crowd sounded festive. Some were jeering and taunting the corpses.

  “Don’t look,” Grandfather warned me.

  I didn’t. We gave the crowd a wide berth. The spectators were too busy celebrating to notice me.

  Once we passed through the tunnel and out of Djeme I told Grandfather I’d make my way back to Ta Set Maat by myself.

  “Are you sure, Neset? You can stay with me.”

  “I just want to go home.”

  As I crossed the plain and wound among the hills towards my village the sun dipped below the Qurn and shadows rapidly spread across the valley. On the river’s east bank Ipet–Isut and Ipet–Resyt and the buildings of Waset faded from gold to black. The few boats still plying the river hurried towards quays and docking places. I retraced my steps from earlier, passed the Enclosure of the Tomb, entered Ta Set Maat. The Medjay guard didn’t challenge me. Khaemwase noted my entrance on his papyrus. I strode down the street in the growing dusk, ignoring the stares of passersby. Children hid their faces and avoided me – the same children who’d listened to my stories most of their lives. Their parents had already turned them against me. I felt like a pariah. All I could think about was reaching my home and slamming my door closed and shutting myself away from the world. I tried not to think about the destruction that awaited me both inside and on the roof. I wanted to curl up on my roof under the stars and lose myself in the oblivion of sleep. Morning would be soon enough to start salvaging what I could of my possessions.

  I passed the house of Pentauret, one of my husband’s accomplices. Its door was open and the reception room was as littered with debris as my own. Tawerethetepti, his widow, was sitting just inside the doorway on the floor, sobbing. Men were inside, arguing. A few doors down Menat, Qenna’s widow, a woman whose garden I tended regularly, was trying to push past Anhirkawi into her house. He was blocking her.

  Menat spotted me. “You cost us everything!” she cried.

  I’d done no such thing. Our husbands had done this to us. But I had no stomach for getting into an argument with her. I hurried past.

  Light spilled into the street from my open door. Loud angry voices came from inside. I entered. Four men were arguing in my living quarters. Two – Amennakht and Reshpetref – were arrayed against Pagerger, Mesedptah’s younger brother. Penanuke, the man who’d brought charges against my husband and the others, was watching them, a satisfied look on his face.

  Amennakht spotted me. “What are you doing here?”

  The men turned towards me.

  “It’s my house.”

  “Not anymore,” Amennakht said gleefully. “I’ve awarded it to Penanuke.” With his hand he indicated the debris. “This too.”

  I was stunned.

  “This house belongs to my family!” Pagerger exclaimed angrily. “It’s been ours for generations! You can’t give it to this… this…”

  “And yet I have,” Amennakht said smugly.

  “This is your fault!” Pagerger spat at me wrathfully. “If you’d given Mesedptah a son he wouldn’t have slept with Sitmut. She wouldn’t have betrayed him!” He pointed his finger at me. “Why didn’t you have the grace to die in childbirth like my brother’s other wives and free him to marry a fertile woman? You’re responsible for everything that happened today.”

  I stifled a laugh. Me? Responsible? Pagerger had always treated me as his brother’s chattel. I’d had enough of him. “Your brother was a no–good lying philanderer and thief! Why the gods didn’t strike him dead for violating Ramesses the Great is beyond me. Who taught him to be so vile, Pagerger? You? Your father? It surely wasn’t me. I honored my marriage. Your brother brought shame and dishonor on me. I never brought either on him.”

  “Go set
tle your differences elsewhere,” Penanuke ordered me. “You heard Amennakht – this is my house now. Leave.”

  What could I do? I glanced at the wreckage of my life. Today I’d lost my husband and my home. I possessed nothing now but the skirt I was wearing. I departed without a word. From outside I heard Pagerger, still arguing with the others. I set out for my father’s house, a short distance up the street.

  “Amennakht gave my house to Penanuke,” I said when he opened the door at my knock.

  He stepped aside and I entered. My stepmother, Meresamun, was laying out dinner for Father and my two half–brothers and three stepbrothers. One half–sister and two stepsisters were helping her. They all stopped what they were doing and stared at me. None showed the slightest sign of sympathy.

  “Can I stay with you?” I asked Father.

  “Absolutely not!” Meresamun cried before Father could answer. She strode towards me, brow knit in a frown. “You have some nerve even asking! My brother’s dead because of you! And Pharaoh doesn’t provide enough for us and you too!”

  “We can get by for a short time if we have to, Wife,” Father replied calmly.

  Meresamun was incensed. “You’d throw away what little wealth you have for Neset? Are you mad? She’s brought unbelievable shame on our family!”

  “Shame?” Father asked. “Reshpetref approached me an hour ago about marrying Neset. More suitors will come forward tomorrow. The men of Ta Set Maat consider your brother’s death an opportunity for them, not a disgrace for Neset.”

  I was done being chattel. “You’re not going to give me to anyone ever again, Father,” I said firmly. “You gave me away eight years ago. I don’t belong to you anymore. I’m going to make my own decisions from now on.”

  “Are you going to let her talk to you that way?” Meresamun cried. “Go to Reshpetref’s house, Neset. Or any other man who’ll take you in. But leave here. Now!” She glared at me, hands on her hips.